When jealousy burns
by chromate
Summary: I no longer know who is more pathetic: the past me who wanted Houtarou to stay still, or the current me who wants him to fail.


Hi everyone. I'm a little surprised by the huge number of Hyouka fanfics here when there are still plenty of episodes left. This story was born as I saw Satoshi becoming more and more annoyed by Houtarou's analytic skills. It is a short piece that I finish in about two days, and is meant to be darker than the anime. I also used first-person narrative as I want to improve on this category, hence there are less descriptions of characters and feelings, and makes it harder for me to write. The recent chaos about removing fics that may be considered violating the rating system also subconsciously made me reconsider my choice of words very often. Yet then, challenge accepted. So please enjoy reading the story.

This is a Satoshi-centric fic, and the story takes place roughly before the Kanya Festival. I do not have an exact timeframe set for this story, for the focus is on Satoshi's mentality.

As I usually suggest, it is better to read stories in the ½ page mode, as it gives off the feeling of reading a book.

* * *

There are two kinds of people in life: those who recognize their talents and those who don't.

I belong to the first group of people and, with great due respect, I passionately hate the latter.

'Oi Fukube, can you bring these folders to the respective teachers?'

'Sure.' I answer with a small smile and, taking the folders from the student council president, I begin to leave the room and walk towards the other side of the school building. Did the president notice my smile was faked? Not that I really give a damn.

So here I am, handing each teacher the folder that we the student council has prepared for them. It's not like I dislike my job as a committee member of the most powerful student body in the school. I rather enjoy the role, in fact. Today is just one of those days that I am bothered by the fact some people do not recognize their talents.

Why am I so bothered by such an unremarkable thing?

Do you ever have a friend who is obviously gifted in something, but he just never bothers to make good use of it, or simply ignores his own talent? If you do, then you're my new pal.

I'm known as 'database', someone who has memory of many things, however insignificant they may appear to be. Whether it's a compliment or a sarcastic nickname does not concern me. I know that I'm good at remembering details when people tend to pay no attention to them, and I'm damn proud of it. Why not? People nowadays rely on the internet too much that they think by some clicks they'll know all about the world, and they do not realize that people like me actually can provide them the necessary and correct information within a blink of an eye.

Do I sound cocky? When you're good at something, never be ashamed of showing pride on that matter.

After finishing my duty, I go back to the student council room and retrieve my bag, then make my way towards my next destination. As I pass through the corridor I begin to think about my agony again.

Talented people who think they're talentless.

Screw them.

They have no idea how much I envy their strengths, and how willing I am to forfeit my ability as a database to obtain their powers. And I'm not talking about strengths as in academics or sports. I'm speaking of a mindset that can thoroughly analyze a mystery and provide a sound solution. A mindset that can spot the clues to find the destined tree in a forest. A mindset that shines in yet a humble manner such that normal people will not be frightened by its power.

I desire that power.

The trees outside are shivering from the breeze.

I am fully aware that as a database, I lack the analytical skills to solve any riddles or mysteries. Even if I'm a big fan of Sherlock Holmes, I can't even be the knowledgeable yet supportive Watson. The doctor has the patience to stay by Holmes' side, despite Holmes being a notoriously difficult person to deal with. He is a true friend that one dreams of having, and I'm no Watson material. Unlike his sincere devotion to his frantic friend, I always have an underlying hatred for the Holmes in my life.

'Hatred' might be too strong of a word, so you may simply call it 'envy' instead. Sometimes envy kills better than hatred. The latter is more physical while the former involves a deep, psychological feeling that could explode if not being concealed properly.

Taking the stairs, I finally get to the place where I usually spend my time before leaving school. The Classic Literature Club.

I stand in front of the closed door and take a deep breath. This place is a double-edged sword to me. I slowly open the door.

'Ah, Fukube-san. Konnichi wa.'

'Fu-chan, why are you so late again?'

'Ah.'

Hearing the three entirely different responses that greet my entrance never fails to make me laugh. Whether it's the politeness of Chitanda Eru, the questioning tone of Ibara Mayaka, or the indifference of Oreki Houtarou, it almost has become a daily entertainment.

We exchange some words of greetings before sitting around the table. There is nothing urgent on the agenda, so we just talk and prepare ourselves for the upcoming exams. Even though such kind of club activity is not as exciting as solving the mystery of the female ghost of the music room or figuring out the history behind our anthology, I am content with this kind of peaceful life. I'm sure Houtarou will agree as well.

Speaking of the devil, the tall guy is now listening to Chitanda-san's query about something that she is curious about her classmates. Houtarou just keeps on breathing heavily and retreating upon Chitanda-san's continuous advance, to which Mayaka and I snicker. That Houtarou. The great Holmes of our school. Being forced to a corner by an elegant girl whose curiosity is infinite. It is always fun to see how he says he has no interest in whatsoever, but after Chitanda-san's furious offence, namely her trademark phrase 'I'm curious!' and her glistering eyes, in addition to the most determined face you'll ever see, he will succumb to her might and help her solve whatever that triggers her curiosity. A cycle of recycled processes.

Houtarou looks so helpless in such situations. More of a reason for me to laugh harder. Mayaka is also smirking evilly, but it is still a sincere gesture nonetheless. Mine is like a wolf wooing in a lamb's skin.

So finally Houtarou gives in and listens to Chitanda-san's story. Mayaka and I naturally pay attention as well, and we go on to present our views. This time I take some considerable measures in presenting my case, thinking of all feasible possibilities before opening my mouth. After proudly giving my deduction to Chitanda-san's case, I cross my arms with a smug smile, sitting triumphantly. Chitanda-san and Mayaka seem to be impressed and both look satisfied, but I know this is not the end. One person has yet to state his opinion. And it is honestly the only opinion that matters.

We all turn to look at Houtarou, and he, feeling our glances, gulps and sighs, touching his front hair and enters his thinking mode. Now, Houtarou, I dare you to rebuke my deduction. I dare you to point out what is wrong with my flawless reasoning. I dare you to.

I dare you to. I dare you to. I dare you to. I dare you to. I dare you to. I dare you to. I dare you to. I dare you to.

After a few still minutes, Houtarou finally speaks.

'What Satoshi said seems fairly plausible…'

I try my best to suppress my satisfaction. The biggest grin in human history almost appears on my stoic countenance.

'…but then, I am bothered by a few things…'

There you go. Hearing the 'but' or 'yet' from Houtarou is always the most painful way of suggesting I have missed something in my deduction, despite my focused calculation of all possibilities. For a split second, I gaze at Houtarou and mentally curse him for turning down my opinions in such a swift manner that I cannot even feel offended by it.

Give me a gun and I'll paint the walls with your blood.

'…and that's why I think there is more to it. Chitanda, didn't you mention that your classmate used to…' They keep on discussing the case, but I stop paying attention halfway through. I'm absorbed in my own world of reflection, thinking over Houtarou's challenge at my proposed solution and wondering how in the world I have missed the cues.

Perhaps what bothers me more is how Houtarou could see the loopholes in my theory in such a short period of time. Both Mayaka and Chitanda-san have a clear mind and even they almost entirely agreed with my theory this time, as I have paid extra effort into figuring out the whole thing. Why does Houtarou pinpoint out the flaws with ease? Does he not know that is a critical hit towards my self-confidence? Also, does he not know that I've tried very hard this time? Why does he have to crack me down so easily, as if it is so obvious?

In my mind I'm twisting his face with my small hands, until his skin turns purple and his eyes fully dilated. Now that will make a good mental image that I will cherish for some time.

It is not just about this time as well. Every mystery that the Classic Literature Club has ever encountered is solved by him. Every single time. He is always the hero who wishes to remain anonymous, when I am constantly looking forward to overcoming his might and just be correct, once and for all. Why is it so hard?

'That's Oreki-san!' Chitanda-san exclaims after hearing Houtarou's proposal, and leans forward to wrap his hands in hers. 'You solve another mystery again!'

Seeing Chitanda-san in an excited state, Houtarou backs away and blushes, saying that it is not a big deal. Yeah right.

It has never been a big deal to him.

Thinking about that only boils the anger deep in my heart more. He never really treasures his talent as a 'detective' as we joke sometimes. He never wants to move. He just wants to remain in the same spot forever.

But I don't want that.

If I had such a talent, I would definitely use it to the fullest. I would gladly be the Holmes when people need one, and I would offer my help generously, willingly, selflessly. I want to hear praises for my ability and know that I can contribute something that is more useful than remembering insignificant information. Houtarou is the exact opposite. If not for Chitanda-san's obstinate attempts in luring him out of his safety house, he would never bother to use his brain.

In some way I think I hate Chitanda-san more than Houtarou. She manages to bring out the potential of Houtarou in a way that I cannot. Rather, she fully utilizes his ability, and I have long given up attempting to do that. Which makes it that I do not hate Chitanda-san as much as I hate my past self.

A bunch of clowns.

As Mayaka makes another sarcastic comment on Oreki's immobility to strive for excellence, I put away my doubts, put on a faked smile, and join in the conversation. After a while, I tell them I have some student council duties to attend to, and leave the clubroom.

In truth, I simply cannot stand sitting in the squared room, thinking that I have failed again. It will take a lot of mental strength to restrain myself from exploding and destroying everything around me. Houtarou's indifferent countenance only serves to further depress my mood. He is really good at that, pissing me off by being himself.

They looked slightly troubled as I bid them farewell. Did they catch how I was feeling?

There are more students staying in the school in this hour than I imagined.

I just do not understand why Houtarou can solve everything so easily, when it takes me a lot to only accomplish half of what he has done. Maybe if he is more open about his ability I'll feel better. But then, when he always looks so reluctant to even move an inch, when he always claims he will stay quiet if not for Chitanda-san's persistence, when he does not even look happy to have figured out the truth that not even the combined effort of Mayaka, Chitanda-san and I can do…

The sun keeps on beaming as if people on streets actually embrace the heat.

Houtarou has always stayed true to his principle of conserving energy. Having known him for years, I am sure that he will not bother to use his clever brain to think without a little push. Chitanda-san is the force that propels him to go forward, while I am the reaction force that hopes for him to remain in the same spot. I can hardly suppress the big twisted grin on my face now.

I have always been aware of that.

The one who never wants Houtarou to show his real ability is me. I'm the one who has been silently persuading him to stick to his beloved principle. Unbeknownst to Holmes, I have constantly reinforced his motto so as to make him know that he either uses his ability or he shouldn't use it at all. Obviously he chooses the latter after my insistent, yet skilled persuasion.

Before Chitanda-san comes into the picture, the plan works perfectly well. Houtarou now believes firmly that he shouldn't bother to use his energy for almost everything in life. Eventually he will not be interested in using his real power, that is, his analytical skills, whilst I will take his place. Yes, that was the plan.

Yet Chitanda-san brings out Houtarou's true potential. She is able to manipulate Houtarou into moving, thinking, analyzing. The gap between me and him now grows only bigger and bigger, with his involvement in various daily mysteries.

And I am still stuck in square one.

I no longer know who is more pathetic: the past me who wanted Houtarou to stay still, or the current me who wants him to fail.

Yet in the back of my head I'm fully aware that the most I can be is Watson, and I do not just want to be Watson. I want to share the glory of Holmes. I want to be recognized like Holmes was. I can't be satisfied with just being a database. I want to be the detective that people admire and love.

I look at the sky and spread my fingers, blocking the rays of the sinking sun from directly reaching my eyes. This is my challenge, Houtarou. While I admit defeat today, I will come back from the trough and face you in a neck-to-neck battle.

I swear.

There will only be one winner.

And I will not admit defeat that easily, Oreki Houtarou.

* * *

_The End_

* * *

I hope you all enjoy my first trial on the Hyouka fandom. Since there are still some episodes left, and that I haven't read the original novels, it is a bit hard to grasp the character(s) fully. This story is merely inspired by Satoshi getting darker and darker in the anime.

Reviews will be deeply appreciated. Until next time!


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